Imperial Guard (21 page)

“That’s great!” Manazes enthused, trying to keep his voice down. Then his face fell. “But what about your arm? You can’t fight Mogul with only one hand.”

“We’ll have to plead for a postponement until I’m fit to fight. Here’s the scan with the pertinent section that can be read into the record.” Brogan handed it to Takushi. Takushi’s face was full of misgiving.

“What’s bothering you, Bob?”

Takushi nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve heard that Mogul has had the best hand-to-hand combat training that money could buy. Are you sure you want to risk combat with him?”

Brogan shrugged. “I don’t think I have a choice. If you have any other viable options, I’d be glad to hear them.”

Takushi shook his head. “OK,” he said with hesitation, “this just might work. I’ll take it from here. Let all hope for the best.”

Takushi turned away and began operating his computer terminal. While he was preparing for court to be reconvened, Brogan and Manazes talked in subdued voices. Presently the board came back in and the proceedings continued.

Takushi rose and said, “If it please the court.”

“You have a witness to call, Counselor?” Hamblin responded.

“No, your honor. My client petitions the court to enforce the Articles of Chivalry, subsection 37J.”

“One moment, please,” Hamblin said. He leaned toward the nearest judges, and whispered comments and questions were tossed back and forth up and down the line. After a couple of minutes, he straightened and turned toward the defendants. “Petition approved.”

“Objection!” Shedd, who had been conducting his own hasty research, was on his feet. “The Articles of Chivalry are an ancient code that have not been appealed to for decades.”

“Surely that does not make them any less authoritative,” Hamblin said with the trace of a grin. “Objection overruled. Counselor Takushi, do you have the subsection to be read into the record?”

“Yes, your honor.” Takushi read from the scan. “In the event that two officers are charged with the same offense and the circumstances dictate that only one party could be guilty but that the guilt of neither can be proven through normal court proceedings, a question of honor may arise. If legal authority has failed to litigate the issue, the question of honor may be settled by personal armed conflict between the two parties. The presiding officer of the court is to decide the following: who is to have choice of weapons, and when and where the combat is to be held. No surrogates will be allowed.”

“I object!” Shedd leaped to his feet, spittle flying from his mouth in his agitation. “This is outrageous! The Articles of Chivalry are archaic. Let the law be enforced by reason, not by chance. I demand that this flagrant attempt to win the sympathy of the court be stricken from the record. It is beneath the dignity of a nobleman to be forced to do combat with a common citizen in order to prove his honor.”

Shedd stopped abruptly. Each member of the board gazed at him with flint hard eyes. They were obviously unsympathetic. Brogan looked at him with amusement. It was entirely possible that not a single member of the tribunal was a nobleman. And Brogan knew that pleading on the basis of nobility was a grave mistake in a military court of law. Shedd turned paler, then seemed to collect his composure.

“I apologize for my outburst, your honors. The suddenness of this proposal has caught me unprepared. Nevertheless, I still assert that this article is inapplicable and not in the best interests of my client.”

“Then I presume that Lieutenant Mogul is ready to submit to a truth scan.”

“Certainly not, your honor. How can my client be expected to choose between two undesirable alternatives? A nobleman’s refusal to submit to a truth scan does not prejudice his case. But it is my belief that this preposterous strategy on the part of the defense is a clumsy attempt to coerce my client to submit to one.”

The military provost looked up from the computer terminal at his seat. “The court has no intention of coercing Lieutenant Mogul into making a decision not required by law. However, while worthy counsel has been objecting to the petition of the defense, the trial computer has been ruling on the validity of section 37J of the Articles of Chivalry. It is the ruling of this court that this article is valid and binding upon both parties when invoked by one.

“Sit down, Counselor!” Hamblin exclaimed, raising his voice noticeably. “The court rules at this time that the remainder of this trial be conducted as an affair of honor. The survivor of personal combat will be declared innocent of all charges. Any attempt to avoid the designated meeting will be construed by this court as prima fascia evidence of guilt, and a verdict will be rendered to that effect. Any voluntary admission of guilt by either party prior to the meeting will be admissible in this court. In such an event, the personal combat will be suspended and this court will reconvene to deliver a verdict.”

Hamblin looked over at Brogan. “Major Brogan, please rise.”

Brogan stood at attention. “Since this meeting was your petition, I am leaving the choice of weapons to your discretion. Do you have a preference at this time?”

“I have, your honor. I choose stilettos and modified neuro-whips.”

Hamblin looked down and put his hand to his mouth in an effort to cover his smile. Then clearing his throat, he announced. “So be it. The decision of this court is that Lieutenant Josh Mogul and Major Timothy Brogan shall meet at the Field of Blood to fight a duel of honor with stilettos and modified neuro-whips at a date to be determined.”

Leaning forward he queried Brogan further. “Major, how long before your arm is sufficiently healed to allow you to meet for this duel?”

“I’ll have to check with a specialist, sir, but I think ten to twelve months.”

“Very well, this court will reconvene ten months from now to determine date and time of the meeting. Until then, both parties are prohibited from contact. At no time shall one party be closer to the other than half a kilometer. Both parties are also required to remain on planet. Other than that, no restrictions are placed on their activities. They shall also be free from censure with no prejudice to their military careers until the trial by combat has taken place. Upon the successful completion of the duel of honor, the computer records of this trial shall be destroyed.

“Does counsel for the defense understand these requirements and conditions?”

“We do, sir,” responded Takushi.

“Does counsel for the prosecution understand these requirements and conditions?”

“We do, your honor, but we comply under protest,” sighed Shedd.

“Duly noted. This court is adjourned.” The gavel sounded, and the tribunal exited the courtroom.

As they did so, the soldiers present rose and gave the clenched fist salute of the Imperial Fusiliers. At this point, a private slipped into the room unnoticed. He was carrying a message for Brogan from Daniel Mizpala.

The telestrip carried the messenger and Brogan, frowning with curiosity, toward the palace quarters of First Minister Mizpala. The cryptically written message told him nothing about what Mizpala could want with him so soon after they had talked the first time. As the marble and oak walls rushed by, he wondered if it had anything to do with the assassination plot against the Emperor.

He glanced around himself. Events were flying by faster than the walls of the corridor. He had no time to think, no time to reflect, no time to access the situation. He felt like he was walking the edge of a cliff, and he feared that now more than ever he needed all his wits about him or he would plummet to his death. He wondered if the events he had been flung into were bigger than he could handle.

The apprehensive young man looked up and saw that the messenger had jumped off the telestrip. He concluded that they must be near Mizpala’s residence. He stepped off the telestrip at an angle and bounded a few steps to a stop. His guide caught up to him and led him to Mizpala’s door.

“This is where I leave you. Stand directly in front of the door and push the visitor button.” Brogan positioned himself as he was ordered and watched as the man walked on down the corridor.

Turning back to the door, he pushed the button and waited. Almost immediately, two cords snaked out of a receptacle on either side of the door. Brogan stepped back in surprise.

“Please do not move,” a tip of one of the cords requested in a lifelike but mechanical voice. “You are being electronically swept.”

An apparatus on the end of each cord scanned Brogan for weapons or anything suspicious. They swayed back and forth and all around him at a distance of several centimeters. In a few seconds their task was complete.

A voice intoned, “All clear!” and the cords whipped back into the wall. Immediately the door slid open, and he was greeted by a servant.

“Major Timothy Brogan, reporting as ordered,” he said. “Minister Mizpala is expecting me.”

“Of course. Right this way.” The servant ushered Brogan into a room off the entrance hall.

“The First Minister will see you here,” the servant said. “Please make yourself comfortable. I will inform him that you have arrived.”

Brogan looked around the simple yet elegant room. Its furnishings appealed to him
—high quality but not extravagant, attractive but not gaudy. He found a chair and sat down, resting his biopack on the wide, padded chair arm. He found it a relief just to sit in a quiet, pleasant place with no earth-shaking events pulling him in one direction or another.

Just as he was beginning to enjoy himself, Mizpala entered the room. Brogan started to push himself up, but Mizpala motioned him to remain seated.

“This is my home, Major, not a government office. We will dispense with formalities here, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” replied his relieved guest.

“That is not to say, however,” Mizpala cautioned as he took a chair catty-corner to Brogan’s, “that the reason I asked you here is not of the utmost concern.” Brogan shifted in his chair.

“But before we get to that, how did the hearing go?”

Brogan summarized what happened, highlighting the trial by combat to be conducted when his arm had healed. When he finished Mizpala was frowning. He tapped the chair arm with his fingers.

“Well, you made the best of a bad situation, I would say. But ten months is a long time for the Moguls to hatch some diabolical schemes. Speaking of the Moguls, the Second Minister has moved faster than even I gave him credit for. Already he has performed the amazing feat of uncovering the assassin and ensuring the safety of his highness. Conveniently for him, the assassin was killed while his men tried to put him into custody. Which means, Major Brogan, that no one remains to corroborate Mogul’s part in this conspiracy. As usual, my colleague has efficiently covered his tracks. There is now no hope of implicating Kepec Mogul in the attempted assassination of the Emperor.”

Brogan shook his head. “I’m beginning to wish I’d never heard the name Mogul. First, Carl takes an intense dislike toward me at CIO School, then pulls strings to get me a boring desk job for my first posting. Josh almost gets me killed, then tries to ruin my career. And now their father sees me as a threat that requires elimination and is completely free to make mischief. I’m afraid that Earth won’t turn out to be very much fun for me.”

Mizpala flashed a mirthless grin, then got out of his chair and began pacing, hands clasped behind his back. “I wish I could give you a word of encouragement and say that your apprehensions are unfounded. But I can’t. I won’t mince words with you, Major Brogan. Your next few months on Earth will probably be the most dangerous time of your life. Having the Moguls as enemies is not something to be taken lightly. They have terminated or ruined many lives over the years. Yours
—or mine—would be only one more in a list too long to count.”

Mizpala stopped pacing and pinned Brogan with his stare. “Your postponed duel with Josh
—all by itself—has put your life in extreme jeopardy. It is certain that the Moguls will try to have you killed before Josh has to fight you.”

Brogan cleared his throat and rubbed his chin with his hand. Mizpala continued. “Since that is already the case, your acceptance of the IAD position would not endanger your life any more than it already is. But you must”
—here the minister’s voice hardened—”be prepared and on your guard every minute of every day. You must be expecting attack every second if you are to survive.”

Mizpala paused and took a deep breath. “I know this will put a terrific emotional strain on you. It will be stress without letup. But I have every confidence in you. You and I serve a higher authority than do the Moguls.”

Brogan looked up. “It would seem that I have little choice. May God give me the endurance and the skill to get through it.”

Mizpala sat down on the arm of a chair, hands on his knees. “We shall see. The evil of the Moguls is strong, but our cause is stronger. I have not survived all these years only to fail now.”

The First Minister slapped his knees and stood up. “Are you ready to see the Emperor? I have made an appointment with him for seven o’clock, but we have plenty of time to get a bite to eat first. Shall we go?”

*

The sleek, jet-black flyer raced southeast a few meters above the undulating surface of the Atlantic Ocean. The setting sun glinted off the rear of the vehicle and cast a long, wavering shadow on the azure water ahead. The driver’s jaw was set, but he was biting the inside of his lip in agitation. His eyes were slits behind lowered lids, seething with frustration and anger.

Suddenly a stream of obscenities was ejected from Carl Mogul’s mouth like so many spent shell casings. The best plan he had ever devised had gone awry, and his whole body was wracked with the irony of it. His plan had not only failed, it had backfired. Just the opposite of what Carl had hoped for had transpired. Instead of Josh never becoming a problem or embarrassment to him again, his brother had complicated his life now more than ever.

“I don’t need this headache!” he spat out between clenched teeth. He swore some more as he thought about his worthless brother. To Carl’s mind, Josh was a total failure, a blemish on the family name, nothing but a liability and, much more significantly, dangerous to Carl’s plans and those of his father’s. Once again Josh was diverting their time and energy away from their main objectives.

The island’s silhouette rose above the horizon, and the elder son of Kepec Mogul pushed his anger aside as he made preparations to land. The island, renamed Ilha de Mogul, was the private domain of the Mogul clan. It lay about twenty kilometers east of Rio.

Hundreds of tiny islands dotted the bay and coastal waters off Rio, and it had become fashionable among the nobility to own one or more of them. It served not only as a status symbol but as a secure dwelling that provided easy surveillance of approaching vehicles.

Carl set the flyer down and made his way into the house. Kepec was waiting for him, but as he looked around he surmised that his brother had not yet arrived.

“Where’s Josh? No doubt he’ll be late again as usual,” he complained to his father.

Kepec riveted him with his stare. “Your brother’s punctuality
—or lack of it in this case—cannot compare to the problems we must discuss this evening.”

“Yes. My brother has managed to mess things up for us again,” Carl said with a sneer.

“I wish that were our only problem,” Kepec returned coldly. “But before we get to that, we need to sweep and mask the place first.”

Kepec pushed a button in the wall. Two floating droids similar to the one Brogan had encountered at the VO appeared. They began a preprogrammed electronic sweep of the premises, checking for newly placed bugs. It took them several minutes, during which time father and son ordered themselves drinks at the computerized bar.

When the droids were finished, they positioned themselves on either side of the room and emitted an electronic screen to mask the Moguls’ conversation from potential eavesdroppers. Kepec downed his drink quickly and ordered another. Carl was nursing his, taking occasional small sips. He could tell that his father was much more agitated than normal, and he was impatient to find out the cause.

“OK, Father. What other problems do we have besides Josh having to fight that Brogan character?”

Kepec ran his fingers through his black, sweptback hair. He frowned as he looked askance at his son. “I had no choice but to terminate our accomplice in the assassination plot.”

“So? It was the only thing you could have done. You didn’t know it would backfire.”

“I know, I know!” Kepec shot back angrily. “But it put Henry in a great, magnanimous mood, and Mizpala—curse him—took quick advantage of it. He took Brogan, of all people, to see him, and Henry put Brogan in command of the new IAD of the Imperial Guard. Where did this army grunt pop up from anyway? One day we’ve never heard of him; the next day he’s causing us more trouble than we’ve had in years. First, he overhears my conversation in the corridor. Then he forces a duel on my son. Then he gets appointed to the IAD.”

Carl looked up from his glass. “I knew him at the Academy,” he said quietly. Karl whipped his head around, his mouth parting slightly. “He was a couple years behind me, but he was a real ringer.” Carl’s mouth turned down in disgust. “Fresh from the corn patch, and he had two medals before he even got to the Academy. I got him buried beneath the Sahara after he graduated, but Darkhow recruited him to the campaign on Peru II.”

“Well, now he’s back, and we’ve got to do something about him. One thing’s certain: Brogan must die.”

“Unfortunately you’re right.”

“What do you mean ‘unfortunately’?” Kepec’s eyes narrowed.

Carl shrugged. “You can’t help but respect someone with ability, even when he’s an enemy.”

“I guess I haven’t taught you well enough over the years,” his father returned gruffly.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. I only wish he could have been on our side. He would have been useful. Don’t worry, I don’t respect him enough not to hate him.”

“Good.” Kepec sat down. “Now, with Brogan’s death we kill two birds with one stone. We hinder and prolong investigation of the Imperial Guard, and we get Josh off the hook. I’ve worked too long and too hard to have anyone with loyalty to Henry and Mizpala meddling with the Guard.”

Carl nodded his head. His father had spent years getting soldiers who were secretly loyal to him transferred or promoted into the Imperial Guard. When there were enough of them, they would provide an instant power base in a takeover bid for the throne. Meanwhile, their task was to undermine the reputation and effectiveness of the Guard by means of corrupt and illegal activities and to line the Moguls’ pockets with money.

The Mogul clan had become fabulously wealthy and powerful primarily through the ruthless practices of the Trading Company. For decades Kepec had been profiting from the misfortune of those enslaved to the Company. His only major defeat had been on Cirrus, which made his hatred for Brogan even more intense.

A commotion at the front entrance attracted their attention. In a few seconds Josh came striding into the room.

“Well, I’m here. Now, what are we going to do about this duel?”

“Good old Josh. Wanting instant solutions as usual,” sneered Carl.

Josh grinned and looked at his father. “Carl’s his normal lovable self, isn’t he?”

“You make me that way by always causing us trouble. But you’re the one who’s really in trouble. If this duel takes place, Brogan’s going to skin you alive.”

“Ha! That’ll be the day. A crippled off-planet farmer beating me in hand-to-hand combat?”

Carl felt his face getting flushed. “He’s twice the man you are, little brother!” he said savagely. “I only wish you were the man to prune his feathers. But we’ll have to come up with other alternatives and snatch you out of the fire as usual.”

Josh balled his fists and took a step toward Carl. Just then their father bellowed, “Enough! This arguing and bickering will get us nowhere. We have a problem to solve. Let’s get at it!”

Josh retreated and flopped onto one of the cushioned chairs. Carl crossed his arms, turned his back, and paced away.